When They Were Humans
by adelineday64
Summary: Based on a theory floating around that the nations were once humans, which was also hinted at by Himaruya. To clear things up a little, I'm making each character someone who died around the time their country would have been formed.
1. Kiku Honda

Kiku sat outside his house, watching other boys playing and laughing together. He would have given anything to be able to join them and have as much fun as they did, but his father always had high expectations for him. He was the heir to the clan's leadership, after all. Children's games were simply a waste of time. Just as Kiku expected, his mother stormed out angrily to scold him.

"Kiku, what are you doing?! Your lesson hasn't finished!" She berated the boy, slapping him across the face. She then grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along, back to see his tutor. He moaned in reply, which prompted more harsh words from her.

"If all you do is play, how do you expect to become great like your father?! Hmm?!" She pinched his ear, before storming back into the house where lunch was being prepared.

It was a rather harsh upbringing for Kiku, who was no older than ten. However, with his father currently away fighting the Yamatai and his mother frequently occupied with household chores, he was expected to hold up the family name by always exhibiting his best behaviour. Indeed, outsiders often praised him for being polite and mature beyond his years.

There was also the swordsman that his father had hired to teach Kiku the ways of fighting. As he was just a beginner, Kiku and his master would often spar with wooden sticks. When it came to these lessons, Kiku's master tended not to tolerate any mischief or tardiness, as demonstrated the time he beat Kiku up for hesitating to strike. Ever since that day, Kiku knew better than to allow an enemy time to recover and strike back. No, it was much better to be merciless and beat them until they could no longer stand up to you.

This was the kind of knowledge Kiku gained from his lessons.

One day, Kiku's father rode through the village gates and returned to his much cherished house. As soon as Kiku's mother heard the sound of horse hooves, she ran out to greet him. Kiku decided to follow his mother as he too, had missed his father during the past few months.

Kiku and his mother froze when they saw him. On his face was a look of pain and defeat neither had ever seen before. He dismounted from his horse and made his way towards them.

"Kiku, run along and play. Your mother and I need to talk in private." He said grimly.

Kiku stared up in shock, his father never allowed him to have fun. Was he finally changing?

"Leave, now!" His father insisted.

Kiku spied a group of boys laughing and running around in the courtyard. He walked up to them timidly.

"M-may I play...?" He asked, bowing.

One of the boys stopped what he was doing and looked at Kiku. "Sure!" He said with a grin.

Kiku smiled shyly, before cautiously joining whatever game they were playing. It was only a matter of time before he was laughing and  
enjoying himself just as much as the other boys.

Finally, Kiku heard his mother calling him inside and he had to leave his new friends.

"See you tomorrow!" They all shouted, waving to him as he was led away.

At dinner, Kiku immediately noticed there was something wrong. Usually his parents would eat their food quite gleefully and converse loudly with each other, but tonight they just sat in silence with worried looks on their faces.

"Mother, why do you look scared?" Kiku asked curiously. She simply gazed emptily at him, her lips trembling.

When Kiku had finished his rice, his mother rose and took him by the hand. She gave him a bath and tucked him gently to bed, all of which was quite odd, considering the type of woman she normally was. She even sang quietly to him until he was fast asleep, before making her way outside.

She knelt down on the ground and looked up at her husband.

"I am ready." She said quietly.

Kiku was woken up by a loud thud from outside. He sat up and glanced around, where were his mother and father? It was really dark outside; shouldn't they be inside sleeping too? At that moment, the door slid open and a black-clad figure entered the room, holding a large sword. Kiku panicked and stood up, breaking into a run in an attempt to escape the mysterious person. In his struggle, Kiku tripped over a cushion and fell forward onto the floor, allowing the assailant to corner him.

Kiku cowered up against the wall, sobbing in fear at the sight of the tall figure.

"Please..." He begged, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry son, but this is all for your own good." They said sadly, before bringing the sword down.

* * *

**I based this chapter around Japan's polite and introverted nature, if anyone is wondering, as well as his strong sense of honour.  
**


	2. Lin Yi Ling

When she was sixteen, Lin Yi Ling's family sent her off to be a concubine to a rich man, in exchange for a large sum of money and several servants. As far as her parents were concerned, it was a fair deal. Now that they were free of their daughter, they could focus all of their attention on to their son.

Upon arrival at the rich man's house, Yi Ling was greeted by the first wife; a bitter, middle-aged woman. She ushered her in, taking her belongings away to be shared amongst the other wives later. For the first few days, everyone gave Yi Ling some space to allow her to settle into her new home. After that she was expected to participate in all household activities, such as cooking, cleaning and entertaining the master. That was when things began to turn sour.

Around a week after she had moved in, the second wife began to exhibit malicious behaviour towards Yi Ling. It was only little things at first, like scratching or kicking her from time to time. However, this behaviour only escalated when the head of house began sleeping with Yi Ling as much as with his other wives. Soon it wasn't just the second wife that was targeting her, the third and fourth gradually joined in too, fuelled by jealously and contempt for the younger girl.

Whenever the master wasn't around, the other wives would beat and insult Yi Ling for numerous reasons. When they all bathed together, they would rally together to make offensive comments about her body. In the kitchen, anything she cooked was reviled and treated as if it were poison; any item of clothing she had helped weave was 'too filthy for anyone to wear'. Several times, Yi Ling tried to alert the master about what she was going through, but each time he would simply dismiss it as typical womanly behaviour.

In an attempt to take matters in her own hands, Yi Ling began waking up much earlier than anyone else so she could cook her own breakfast without having to worry about it being wasted. This however, proved to have a considerable toll on her energy and strength in the long run, and she was soon dozing off in the midst of chores, which attracted yet more scolding from those around her.

One day, the master announced that he would be leaving for a short amount of time in order to find a husband for the daughter of his first wife. All of the wives, except for Yi Ling brightly promised that they would be on their best behaviour and soon as he had left, they got to work cooking up a feast for the guests. As usual, all Yi Ling could do was stand back and watch the others do all the work. Her cooking was terrible, after all.

The second wife took a large pot of boiling water off the stove and walked slowly towards Yi Ling, a devilish smirk on her face. Instinctively, Yi Ling tried to back away, only to have the second wife toss the contents of the pot all over her. She felt the hot water hit her skin and screamed in pain, falling to the floor and touching her face in panic.

"Oops..." The second wife said nonchalantly.

Crying, Yi Ling ran outside to the well and looked down at her reflection. Her hands were all red and blistered, and her face - her face was ruined. She grabbed onto the rope with her and pulled; the friction hurt her hands even more, but she just wanted some cold water to ease her wounds. Finally, she was able to reach for the bucket and splash some water onto her face, which produced hissing noises. Trembling, she lowered the bucket back into the well and continued to stand there for the next hour, mulling over things in her head.

She remembered her childhood and all the happy memories she had with her parents and brother, back when they genuinely seemed to care for her. Something changed when she grew up, her parents lost interest in her and her brother became cold-hearted and aloof. The smell of roast pork wafted out of the window towards her. Once upon a time, a smell like that would have made her mouth water but today it had no effect on her whatsoever. She staggered back inside and through the kitchen. In the dining room, food was being placed on the table in time for the guests to arrive. No one paid attention to Yi Ling as she went past, her face raw with tears.

Once she was in her room, Yi Ling locked the door behind her and collapsed on to the bed. The master was due to come home soon and showing her disfigured face to guests would bring disgrace upon everyone. She rolled over and buried her face into the pillow, sobbing.

Later, the master noticed Yi Ling's absence and asked for her whereabouts. The second wife replied and stated that she had no idea, which prompted him to search the house for her. He went to her bedroom and knocked on the door, demanding for her to come out and face everyone, but there was no response. He then called out her name, which was also met with complete silence. He began to feel worried and called some men up to help break through the door.

Soon everyone was crowded outside the bedroom staring at the grim sight. Yi Ling lay on the floor all stiff and rigid, her hand still clutching a bloody hairpin.

* * *

**According to the official wiki article on her, Taiwan is apparently fashionable, nervous and is someone who can't stop worrying. I thought the whole 'concubine' business would be kind of fitting since wives often competed for the husband's attention and if it got really extreme, some of these women would resort to murder.**

**This could also explain some of her rebellious tendencies (maybe I'm looking too deep into things).**


	3. Matthew Williams

Matthew Williams sat in his boat looking down at the shallow waters of the dam. Word had it that this area was rife with beavers and catching one should be an easy task for a beginner like him. He had only recently managed to get a job as a fur trapper in this strange land.

Why was he here? Well, both his parents had been through hell just to arrive in this place and settle down. When he was growing up, they had the sense to teach him the values of hard work and how everything would pay off if he just put his mind to it.

Back in his hometown, Matthew was considered to be somewhat of an oddball, which people often attributed to the fact that he was of mixed English-French ancestry. In fact, while his parents usually got along, they would have the occasional dispute due to their language differences. Even to this day, his mother retained a strong French accent which made it quite hard to understand what she was saying at times. His father had passed away while he was still a teenager and the previous year, his mother had contracted an incurable bone disease. Now she spent much of her time in bed, unable to move.

Matthew took a foothold trap and opened it up, before setting it in the dam waters. All he needed to do now was wait.

An hour later, his waiting payed off. A beaver had unknowingly swam right into the trap and got its foot caught. As it struggled to get free, Matthew reached down and released its foot, bringing it into the boat with him. He grabbed his hunting knife and sunk the blade into the animals head, killing it. He began to slice its head off as that body part was useless, before tossing it into the water. As Matthew got to work skinning the beaver, a red cloud began to form around his boat.

Matthew smiled at his finished work. The beavers hide lay stretched out on the floor of the boat and its flesh now rested in a sack, preserved in salt. He turned and stared at the entrails floating around in the water. He washed the blood off his hands, before picking up the oars and rowing away in search for more animal life.

As he travelled further down the river, Matthew was too focused on what was ahead of him to notice the unstable tree on the bank, which was too bad since by the time he heard the deafening snap, it was too late. The lofty tree fell rapidly down onto him, taking him by shock and crushing him. Matthew didn't stand a chance against a tree of that size, of course, and within only a few seconds he was dead, his arm still hanging off the side of the boat.

* * *

**I'm pretty sure that Canada is presented to be a lot more down to earth than America, even if he does zone out every now and then. Also the fur trapper and beaver stereotypes were too Canadian not to ignore.**


	4. Toris Laurinaitis

Baby Arturas lay in his mother's lap staring up at her with his large green eyes. She smiled and rocked him gently until he was asleep, singing a lullaby, before placing him down on to the bed. She gazed lovingly at his peaceful face and tiptoed out of the room. Later the child's father returned from the fields and as soon as he laid eyes on the sleeping infant, he too brightened up.

Over the next few weeks the two parents lived happily with their son, though the mother longed for more. One night, she rolled over and looked at her husband, expressing her desire to have another child, one that could keep Arturas company. Nine months later, another boy was born.

As young children, Arturas and his brother were inseparable to the point that there was not one time when they wouldn't be seen together. Due to his brother's inability to pronounce his name correctly, 'Arturas' became 'Toris' and soon everyone in the village, including his parents began to call him that instead.

When he was sixteen, Toris fell in love with his neighbour's pretty daughter. She, however, showed little interest in a plain looking boy like him and so he pursued her relentlessly for a year before she finally gave in and returned his affections.

Other than that, nothing much happened in Toris' life. Everyday seemed the same, working in the field with his brother from sunrise to sunset and such was his mundane life, that he would often yearn for something more exciting. He envied the young men who were able to go off to battle, all of whom no doubt would be lauded as heroes when they returned. In his parents' eyes, the life of a soldier was out of the question. They wanted him to stay and look after the household, not to mention set a good example for his flighty brother.

One morning, some elegantly dressed men rode through the village, claiming to have been sent by the Grand Duke who ruled over these lands. People came out of their houses to see what was going on.

"As some of you may know, the Grand Duke plans to launch a campaign against the Slavs in order to expand our borders. It will not be an easy task, great sacrifice is required. The Grand Duke demands that all of his subjects must provide extra wheat in order to feed his soldiers."

There was a short silence as the information sank in. Toris and his brother looked at each other.

"Does this mean we'll have to work harder from now on?"

"I guess so," answered Toris.

"The Grand Duke has also requested a blood sacrifice in order to win the Gods' favor, so we now ask all men to draw a straw out of this basket."

Toris took a deep breath as he reached into the basket and pulled out a straw. He looked to the right and left at everyone else's straws and began to feel uneasy, his was pretty short.

The Duke's men paced up and down several times, comparing the length of the straws in each person's hand until one of them finally came to a stop in front of Toris. He beckoned to the others.

"Come with us." The man said, grabbing Toris by the arm. Toris looked into his emotionless eyes and resisted, breaking free and running towards his family.

"Mum! Dad! I don't want to go!" He cried, pausing in front of them, his breath coming out in small puffs of steam. When his parents didn't say anything, Toris fell on to his knees before his father. "Please...help me..." He pleaded, his body trembling.

Toris' father looked down at him grimly. "Be brave, son..." He said quietly, just as the Duke's men caught up and seized Toris, dragging him away.

As he was pulled away from his house, he heard his mother sobbing in distress.

Over the next few hours in which Toris was taken to be sacrificed, he was constantly haunted by memories of his parents, brother and girlfriend. His father's last words to him especially, kept repeating in his head until he could no longer retain his composure. He lashed out at the man riding next to him and cursed at the heavens, which prompted the others to dismount in order to restrain him. Toris attempted to struggle free as they held him down and tied his hands together, but their combined strength was too much for him.

That night, Toris was left in a grove in the forest where he was soon joined by a group of priests. As one of them got to work sharpening a large knife, a tall bearded man in armour was seen several feet away, waiting impatiently for the process to begin so that he would have something interesting to watch.

The first priest finished sharpening his knife and approached Toris, grabbing him tightly by the hair and swiftly moving the blade against his throat. The whole thing happened so quickly, the next thing Toris knew, his clothes had all turned red and he could no longer breathe. He sank to the ground, his blood dripping into a bowl held by an old man, before everything started to fade to black. Around him, the other priests were on their knees in prayer to Kovas.

As the grass around him stained red with his blood, he tried to cry out, but no sound came out of his mouth.

* * *

**Kovas was the pagan Lithuanian god of war, or so I read somewhere. If there's anyone who knows better, I'd appreciate it if they told me.**


	5. Jack Walters

Jack Walters dug his shovel into the dull brown soil, thinking back over his tumultuous life. The oldest of nine children, the judge had sentenced him to hang after he stole some gentleman's horse. That same judge later took pity on him however, and changed the sentence to seven years' hard labour in the penal colonies. The journey lasted several months and Jack fell ill countless times, unable to become accustomed to the smell of the sea and the constant rocking of the ship; not to mention the stink of people who hadn't washed for weeks, himself included. To think that he had once expressed joy at knowing that his life would be spared. Now that he'd seen and experienced this shit hole of a place with his own senses, he figured that perhaps being hanged wasn't such a bad fate after all. The rope would be placed around your neck and you would be dropped, dying in only a matter of minutes. Here however, he was expected to work his ass off for seven years. _Seven years._

"Oi, watch where you shove your dirt!" yelled a lanky man to his left, snapping Jack out of his thoughts.

"Your dirt? That's my pile!" Jack yelled back. He knew the other man was right, but he just wanted to vent his anger in some way.

Ever since he was a child, Jack possessed an insatiable desire to take anything valuable that wasn't his. The fact that he and his family were dirt poor probably had something to do with it. Everytime he saw the shine of a coin or a trinket, his fingers would twitch and his heart would race, urging him to take it for himself. Gradually, this habit led him to stealing increasingly larger things until that day when he crept into the stable of a wealthy family and attempted to sneak a horse outside. Oh how he hated the rich, living such careless lives while commoners like him struggled just to keep themselves alive. Scratch that, he hated God too, for creating him in the first place and dooming him to this sorry life, and who could forget the clergy and the King himself? In short, he hated this world and everything in it.

About one year into his term, Jack had already had enough. He just couldn't see himself lasting for another year, let alone six more. The conditions here had taken a heavy toll on him, both physically and mentally; he was once quite sturdy for someone of his economic background, now whenever he touched his chest, all he could feel were his protruding ribs. As for his mind, he often found himself thinking about his younger siblings. How were they faring now that he wasn't there to support them? He feared the worst.

His inmates thought he was crazy to try to sail all the way back to England. The sea was vast and inhospitable, there was no way he'd be able to make it. Still, Jack thought it would be worth a try. He spent a few weeks building a raft in secret, before stealing as many provisions as he could. When he felt ready, he quietly stole away from the others and arrived at the shore, sailing off. Too bad the elements seemed to be against him that day, his raft capsized and he was washed back onto land a few hours later. For his attempted escape, Jack was lashed fifty times in front of his fellow convicts.

Jack still wouldn't be deterred though, and as he painfully recovered from his wounds, he formed another plan in his head. He was going to get out of here even if it killed him.

It was during the time that a wave of disease began spreading through the colony that he decided it was time to get a move on.

Treading through the bush, Jack heard a bloodcurdling, inhuman laugh and came to a stop, glancing around quickly. There was no one around, so where was this sound coming from? He kept quiet and waited, but he didn't hear the noise again.

A few hours later, Jack reached a flowing river. He knelt and splashed water on his face, enjoying the refreshing effect it had on him. He filled his canteen and took a gulp, before taking off his clothes and washing himself.

It was only until after his bath in the river that Jack noticed how clean the air was; nothing like smoky, dingy London. He took a deep breath and relished his new-found peace. Said peace was shortly interrupted though, by a rustling noise.

Jack turned around and met eyes with a lean, dark-skinned man standing just a few feet away. He had never seen such an odd-looking person, they were almost completely naked, with fierce eyes and dark, curly hair on their head. In their hand was a long, sharp spear. Not knowing what to say, Jack backed away slowly and made a run for it, ignoring the alien words that were coming out of the man's mouth.

_"Maybe this is hell after all..." _He thought, just as another eerie laugh echoed through the trees around him. As the adrenaline pumped through his body and his legs carried him deeper into the bush, he caught a glimpse of a dark shape under his shoe. Before he could react, a brown snake sprang up from the ground towards him, hissing. Instinctively, Jack thrust his hands out and grabbed it, wrestling it to the ground. Unfortunately, this only aggravated the snake further and it bit him violently in the wrist before slithering away, wriggling its long tongue.

"Shit!" Jack muttered as he fell back against a tree trunk and stared at the ugly bite mark on his arm. Blood was oozing profusely from his wrist and he gasped in pain, as he tore off a piece of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his wound. He stood up with difficulty and trudged forward, his head throbbing. One by one, bits of him began to shut down and he collapsed on to the ground, convulsing in agony. The scenery around him blurred into one large green-brown mass and for a moment, he thought he was back in the green fields of England...

* * *

As you might guess, these chapters don't come easily at all.

If you can't figure it out, 'Jack Walters' is my human name for Australia. Here, he's supposed to be a convict that died after being bitten by an Eastern Brown Snake. As for the weird laugh he kept hearing, it was just a kookaburra.

Feel free to tell me if I have made any mistakes.


	6. Feliks Łukasiewicz

"Feliks! Feliks! Anna is here to see you!" Feliks' father yelled, banging his fist against the wooden door.

"Tell her to leave, I don't like her!" Feliks replied, looking up from the book he was reading.

"What's wrong with her?!"

"She's ugly!" Feliks whined, throwing his book down on to the table.

"She's your only choice! Now come out and meet her!"

Feliks moaned and got to his feet slowly. He shuffled along, taking as much time as he could to get to the door. He pulled a key out from under his belt and inserted it into the keyhole, turning it and unlocking his bedroom door.

"About time!" Feliks' father said urgently. He hurried his son towards the front of the house, where the potential bride was waiting.

"It's nice to meet you, Feliks." The plump, dark haired girl said with a curtsey. Feliks looked down at the floor shyly.

"For God's sake, son! Look her in the eyes!" Feliks' father scolded, smacking the back of his head.

"Y-yes, father!" Feliks whimpered, straightening up.

* * *

Feliks knelt down in front of the altar, Anna at his side, as the priest went over all the necessary proceedings. He swallowed and turned to look anxiously at his father, who glared back at him coldly.

"Do you, Feliks Łukasiewicz, in the name of God, take this woman to be your wife?" The priest asked.

The whole room went silent as everyone leaned forward to hear Feliks' answer.

As Feliks' felt the pressure of all the eyes on him, he considered the two different options. One, he could say no to the priest and risk suffering from the wrath of all his relatives or two, he could say yes and be doomed to live the rest of his life with this unattractive woman. Which was worse? He couldn't decide, so he looked once again at his father.

_"If you refuse, I'll kill you." _His father's eyes seemed to say and Feliks had a feeling that he was completely serious this time, unlike in the past where he would simply be bluffing.

"I-I will!" Feliks stammered, his shoulders trembling. He coughed and tried to clear his throat, as everyone in the room cheered.

* * *

"Feliks dear, why won't you touch your dinner? Don't you like it?" His wife asked as she sat down opposite him. One would think she were talking to a baby or young child, considering the type of tone she used whenever she was around him.

"I'm not hungry." Feliks said quietly. He pushed his plate aside and left the table to go back to his room, where he could have some peace to himself.

Feliks opened the windows and stared outside at the night sky, marvelling at the never ending number of stars. If only there was a way to count them all...why was it always the pointless things that interested him? As his friends and family always used to tell him, it was impossible for anyone to fly to the moon nor was it possible to turn anything into gold. Still, what could they know? They had never tried any of those things themselves.

That night, as he lay in bed facing away from his wife, Feliks had a strange dream. In it, he turned into a white eagle and flew up into the sky, away from his wife and the rest of his family so he could soar over mountains, forests and oceans, before landing on top of a castle and perching proudly.

The next morning Feliks woke up, finding himself in bed next to that fat cow, much to his disappointment. The dream was still vivid in his mind though, and for the rest of the day he just couldn't get it out of his head. Maybe it was a message of some sort.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Anna asked, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

Feliks turned around from where he was sitting. "I'm making a pair of wings..." He said innocently, fiddling with a bunch of goose feathers.

"Why?"

"I don't know, do you think it's possible to fly?"

"I'm not sure...birds can do it...don't waste your time on such things! This is just like that time you tried to turn pee into gold!"

"I like, don't care what you think." Feliks sighed. "I haven't tried it yet, so how would I know?"

"You're so childish, do you think I enjoy being married to you?!" Anna asked in annoyance, brushing a stray hair off her face.

"I could say the same thing. You look like a fat pig!"

"What? What did you say?!"

"You look like a pig..."

"It's not my fault! Listen, you need to do something more useful, like help me look after this house! Or get a job!"

Feliks stood up, gathering up all of the feathers and pushing past his wife.

"When I'm done with this, you won't have to put up with me anymore anyway." He whispered, making his way outside. She looked at him in confusion at what he had just said.

* * *

Feliks picked up his finished wings. He'd ensured that they would be as large as possible so that he'd be able to fly properly. The only thing left for him to do was to test them.

Carrying the pair of wings under his arm, he walked along the road towards the church where he had been married months before. Once he was there, he ignored the questions of the residing priest and climbed the stairs up to the tower, where a large window enabled him to look out on the stone ground below. He shut the door behind him and got to work attaching the wings to himself.

When he was ready, he stepped on to the window sill and took a deep breath, before jumping outside.

* * *

**Poland normally seems like an airhead, but the country itself has produced a lot of great scientists, mathematicians and philosophers, thus him dying trying to find out if human flight is possible (it's in the name of science!).  
**


	7. Natalia Arlovskaya

"When will you get married...?" The old woman asked, taking a bite of her piece of bread.

"Grandmother..." Natalia sighed, turning from the stove and sitting down opposite her. "I've already told you, men just don't seem to like me."

"They don't like you? You can cook and clean, what are you doing wrong?"

"I wish I knew..." Natalia said sadly. She wasn't ugly, that was a fact. She was quite pretty actually, as her own mother used to tell her. Yet for some reason, every time she tried to approach a man, he would inch away from her as if she were some kind of monster. She was nineteen now, and this problem was starting to drive her crazy. If she couldn't get a husband, what would become of her? She remembered faintly when she was quite young; there lived an old hag on the outskirts of her village, driven mad by loneliness after the deaths of her husband and children. Natalia sure didn't want to end up like that, wasting away by herself with no one to look after her.

Before bed, Natalia got down on her knees just as she did every night and prayed to God, asking him to send her a husband soon. When she finished her prayer, she blew out the candles and lay down on the floor, falling asleep.

The following morning, Natalia awoke feeling incredibly refreshed. She'd just had a most wonderful dream where a tall, handsome man came to carry her off to church with him. If such a thing were to happen to her for real, she would no longer have to worry about her bleak future.

Natalia glanced at her grandmother who was still fast asleep and snoring.

"I'm just going to the market! I won't be long!" She called out as she picked up her basket and adjusted her headscarf. The old woman sat up in shock, rubbing her eyes before staring at her granddaughter irritably. Natalia simply chuckled at her, pushing the door open and scurrying outside.

She didn't know why she felt so ecstatic; perhaps today was the day that she would finally meet her future husband? Anyway, something good was going to happen today, she could feel it.

On the road to the market, Natalia spied a man riding in the distance. As he and his horse came closer and closer to her, she stepped to the side to allow them room to pass. From his fine clothes, she guessed he was a nobleman of some sort.

He turned to look at her, bringing his horse to a stop. Natalia took a step backwards as he dismounted.

"Young lady, may I ask what your name is?"

"Natalia..." She answered. _"What is this man's aim?" _She asked herself, clenching her fist and lowering her head instinctively.

"No need to be shy...why don't you let me see your pretty face?" The man smiled, letting go of the reins on his horse.

Natalia lifted her head, summoning up the courage to make eye contact with him. She forced a smile, convincing herself that he meant no harm.

"Who are you?"

"Me? Why should that concern you?" The man said smugly, stroking his chin. He took a few steps forward and Natalia backed off, bumping into a tree.

"Are you already married, by any chance?" He asked, placing his hand right above Natalia's head and looking down at her.

"N-no!" Natalia stammered, becoming anxious. She glanced at the basket in her hand and realized that she was supposed to be at the market by now; what was a rich man like him doing around her village?!

"I must be lucky then, to find a maiden like you..." He whispered into her ear.

All of a sudden, he grabbed her by the arm and used his other hand to cover her mouth, preventing her from screaming or calling for help. She tried to wriggle free, only to find herself being thrown to the ground. The man bent down over her, stroking her face and sniffing her hair. He smirked lasciviously and undid his pants before forcing himself on her.

Throughout the ordeal, Natalia tried to say something, anything that would make him stop, but the words kept getting stuck in her throat. As a result, all that came out of her mouth were painful sobs. She just wanted it all to end soon, so that she would able to make her way to the market and return home to her grandmother.

At last, after what seemed like forever, the man seemed to lose interest in her. He stood up and hastily got dressed again, leaving her lying on the grass choking as she tried to hold back her tears. That morning, she had left the house in high spirits. Now, as she looked at the blurred figure of the man who had defiled her and degraded her to such a low point, her heart began to fill with hatred and disgust. Remembering the knife hidden inside her basket (the one her father gave her), she reached for it and threw herself at the man, digging the blade deep into his back. He cried out in pain, and she stabbed him again and again, only stopping long after he was dead.

Once she came back to her senses, Natalia dropped the bloody knife and stared in horror at the corpse lying face down in front of her. She hurriedly grabbed for her basket and ran off, desiring to get as far away from that place as possible and hopefully put the whole thing behind her.

It was only when she found herself back on the road that Natalia realized the blood all over her hands and clothes. She panicked and to her own confusion, broke into hysterical laughter.

At that moment, another girl from Natalia's village happened to walk past and saw the chilling sight: a young woman standing by the side of the road, covered in blood and laughing madly. She screamed.

* * *

Natalia stood in front of the whole village, trembling and crying uncontrollably.

"Natalia Arlovskaya, for the crime of murder, you have been sentenced to hang by the neck until you are dead." The judge callously read out from his book. "May God have mercy on your soul."

Two soldiers grabbed Natalia by the shoulders and she screamed for forgiveness, but her fellow villagers taunted her instead, pelting her with rotten food as she was led to the gallows. Natalia caught sight of her own grandmother standing in the crowd and screamed her name, but she turned away, no longer daring to look at her granddaughter. After all, who could love a murderer?

The father of the murdered man watched in satisfaction as the noose was placed around Natalia's neck and the ladder was dropped, sending her plunging to her death. All that mattered to him was the fact that his son's death had been avenged, which would hopefully allow him to sleep better.

As Natalia's body swung sadly in the wind, the villagers soon grew bored and all retired to their homes, where they would go back to their daily lives, soon to forget about her sorry fate.

* * *

**Obsession with marriage aside, Belarus has been stated to have a pretty negative view of the world, believing that humans in general "are a series of misfortunes and hardships" which I thought might make sense if she was abandoned by the people she was supposed to trust the most.**

**Bonus Questions:**

**1) Why didn't any of the other men like Natalia?**

**2) What happened to her parents?**


	8. Erzsébet Héderváry

Erzsébet grew up in an army barrack with her older brothers, raised by her father after her mother died in some accident. As such, she was almost always surrounded by men and developed a fairly masculine personality. She would often play the same rough games as her brothers and join in their fighting lessons, as if she too was a boy. However comfortable she felt in her home though, once she began puberty her father suddenly changed in the way he treated her. In contrast to when she was a child, he now took great care around her, as if one slap would shatter her to pieces.

One day when she was in her late adolescence, her father and brothers went off to battle. She begged them to let her join, but her father simply refused, telling her that the battlefield was too dangerous for a young woman. Once they were gone however, she ran into her room and tied all her hair back, bound her chest and put on men's clothing. She then covered her head with a helmet, so that no one would recognize her.

* * *

"It's alright, we're just going for a short ride." Erzsébet whispered, stroking her horse's mane. It whinnied softly in response, as she got a saddle ready.

Erzsébet rode out in the direction that her father and brothers had gone an hour before, hoping that she would be able to catch up with them and lend them a helping hand; if only she knew the right way to go.

After several false leads, Erzsébet could finally hear the sounds of swords clashing together and men screaming. She now knew that she was in the right place and charged on to the field, ducking just in time for an arrow to fly over her head. She sat up tall again and drew her sword, using it to slash at soldiers around her.

Things were going well for Erzsébet, better than she expected in fact, since she was hardly the best fighter around. That is, until she saw her father struggling by himself ahead, surrounded by four or five men, his horse lying still nearby.

Erzsébet rode in to help her father and he turned to look in confusion at the newcomer, letting his guard down for a moment. In that moment, somone behind him raised their sword and struck.

The sword slashed through his throat and he fell to the ground, blood spraying around him. Erzsébet screamed and scanned the battlefield for her brothers in panic. An arrow flew through the air, pierced her shoulder and knocked her off her horse. She stood up and attempted to mount her horse again, only to find that she kept slipping due to her arm being weakened. Giving up, she grabbed hold of the reins, to prevent her horse from galloping away, and did her best to fend off any men who attacked her.

Despite how hard she fought, Erzsébet's strength eventually proved to be little match for the enemy soldiers closing in on her. Panting, she swung her sword one last time, cutting one of them down, before another man ambushed her and stabbed her in the back, running her through. She opened her mouth to scream in pain, but no sound came out, as her whole mind went blank. The blade was pulled out of her body and she felt her legs give way. As she collapsed, mud splashed on to her and blotted out her vision. The last noise she heard was her horse whinnying sadly as it curled up around her.

* * *

**This one's pretty short and moves really quickly. If you were wondering about the end, well her horse decided to lie down and die with her, even though I'm sure actual horses would never do that in real life.**

**I figured that if she died disguised as a man, it might contribute somewhat to Hungary's gender confusion as well.**

**I have rough stories in mind for England and France, but I'm not sure if they'll work...**


	9. Arthur

Arthur was born in a village owned by the church. In his early years, he was a sickly child, so much that both of his parents believed he wouldn't live past fifteen. As a result, they neglected him in favour of focusing their efforts on his two older brothers. Miraculously though, young Arthur managed to reach most of his milestones, such as learning to crawl, talk and walk, despite his poor health and was soon competing with his brothers for his parents' attention.

Arthur's early memories were mainly of being picked on by his older brothers due to his short height and skinny figure. He soon learned to counter many of their taunts with clever comebacks.

One day when he was around five, Arthur's parents packed most of their belongings and loaded them on to a cart, in preparation for fleeing from the advancing Danish forces . They almost left Arthur behind; only remembering that they had forgotten to wake him when they had travelled a few miles. By the time they found him, he was wandering around fearfully, sobbing and calling for his mother and father.

In their new home, Arthur and his brothers would spend much of their time being taught how to fight by their father, who never failed to remind them how much such skills would help them in the future. Every night, they would sit in front of the hearth and listen to their father tell them stories from his youth; some true, some false.

During his adolescence, Arthur often found himself envying how his brothers had grown to be such strong, healthy looking men. He, however, was still a little on the short side and somewhat scrawny. Every time he looked at himself, he would silently curse his parents for taking such poor care of him when he was younger.

Both of Arthur's brothers got married and went off with their wives to raise their own families, leaving him behind to look after his parents. Well, at least he had them all to himself now, even if he had to wait fifteen years.

Arthur watched his mother and father grow old and eventually pass away from illness themselves. At their funeral, he was joined by his brothers much to his own surprise, and together they mourned the loss of their parents.

After that, Arthur lost touch with his brothers and fell into a deep depression. He tried to comfort himself with what little his father had left for him but the feelings of worthlessness kept creeping into his mind when he least expected it. At night he would cry quietly by himself, to release some of his inner turmoil.

It was only after several years that Arthur began to regain the courage to walk around outside with his head held up high, no matter how ridiculous he thought he looked.

When he was in his late twenties, Arthur befriended a girl some years younger than him. He found that she had a lot in common with him and they soon became very close, always looking out for each other and missing each others company whenever they were apart.

It was one night when Arthur found himself dreaming about having a child with her, that he realized his true feelings. He resolved to confess his love for her the next time they met. She however, seemed to have something much more pressing to tell him, so he allowed her to speak first.

"Arthur, I'm going to get married!" She exclaimed excitedly. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"My parents say he's quite reliable, not to mention hardworking..." The girl sighed dreamily, oblivious to the pain visible in her friend's eyes.

Arthur forced a smile despite feeling like his own heart was breaking. He tried to convince himself that her happiness was more important than anything else, and if she was happy with another man, what did his feelings matter? Still, he couldn't quite shake off his desire to be with her, watching helplessly as she drifted further and further away from him.

On the way home, Arthur stopped at the inn. There, he drank as much ale as he could in the hope of forgetting his troubles.

After his heartbreak, Arthur became bitter and withdrawn. He would react harshly to the slightest things and as a result, many of his neighbours began to fear him. Unable to form a strong relationship with anyone anymore, alcohol became one of his main comforts.

The years passed quickly and Arthur wondered where they had gone. Both of his older brothers had died and he was now in pretty shabby shape himself, with his aching back, greying hair and the light in his eyes fading. Nowadays, he relied on a walking stick and despised the insolent, careless youngsters who ran around making things difficult for old timers like him.

* * *

Arthur ambled along on the road from the market, basket in his hand. A group of youths ran up behind him, laughing and joking. They jostled past, almost pushing Arthur over, and he swore at them, though they didn't seem to hear. He straightened himself up and continued on his journey.

"Are you alright, sir?" said a quiet voice. Arthur turned to see a small boy tagging along behind him.

"What do you want?!"

"I-I'm sorry, but you look like you need help. Do you mind if I carry that for you?" The boy said timidly, extending his arm out in front of him.

Arthur glared at the boy cynically, looking him up and down_. _This was strange indeed; it had been years since someone had last showed him compassion, so why should he trust this child of all people?

"My mother always told me to help those in need."

Arthur froze, remembering the time when his own mother told him the same thing. He'd been so innocent back then, just like the boy in front of him.

He let the basket slide down his arm slowly and the child took it from him gently.

The little boy accompanied Arthur all the way up to his front door, where he handed the basket back to him. Arthur checked the inside to make sure everything was still there and once he was sure nothing had been stolen, he thanked the boy, breaking into an awkward smile.

* * *

Arthur sat at the side of his bed, looking wearily into the hearth. He recalled the stories his father used to tell and how he would listen in awe to the tales of beautiful princesses, fierce dragons and courageous kings.

"I've lived a wasted life..." He mumbled to himself.

Anyway, it was growing late and he needed to get some rest. He stretched his arms and his back creaked as he lay down, waiting for himself to fall asleep.

* * *

_"Daddy, could you tell me a story? Please!" A little girl begged, squirming around restlessly. _

_"Alright..." Arthur knelt by the bed, smiling. "Once upon a time in a kingdom far away, there lived a young prince by the name of..."_

The following morning, a ray of sunlight shone through the window on to Arthur's peaceful face and the birds chirped merrily. Outside, people were already up and going about their usual morning routines. As the day progressed, vendors sold their wares, children played and women gossiped amongst each other. All this noise failed to wake Arthur however, and he simply lay in bed, quiet and undisturbed.

* * *

**I hope I managed to capture England's personality in this chapter, it took me a while to figure out what to write about. You probably all know that he's interested in fantasy and magical creatures; and that he's quite cynical and lonely. **

**Fact: The surname 'Kirkland' was often given to people who lived on land that belonged to the Church.**


	10. Lovino

Lovinus sat at the table alone, watching his mother slowly cutting a piece of bread into smaller pieces for him, her fingers moving gracefully in front of the knife.

As she made her way towards him with the plate, he noticed the dark patch around her eye, which was only just visible in the dim room they were in.

"Mama, what happened to your face?"

She didn't answer, instead pushing the plate of bread towards him.

"Just eat your meal..." She said quietly.

Lovinus eyed the bread on the table and looked at his mother. "Mama, you should eat something too..."

"I'm not hungry..." She muttered, sitting down opposite him.

As Lovinus ate his dinner, he couldn't take his eyes away from his mother's bruised face and how miserable she looked. He'd always wondered why she was so passive, unlike his aggressive father who would regularly berate and hit her for the slightest mistakes. Perhaps it had something to do with her being a 'dirty whore' as his friends and their parents always said.

"Mama, what's a whore?"

"Don't you ever say that word!" She cried suddenly, smacking his hand. He winced from the pain and gulped in fear. When she saw his frightened expression, she averted her eyes, focusing on the floor instead.

"I'm so sorry, Lovinus..." She apologized, touching his arm gently. "I didn't mean to get angry like that, it won't happen again. I promise..."

Despite his mother's apology, Lovinus still felt uneasy and ate the rest of his bread warily.

That night, after he had been washed and tucked into bed, Lovinus lay awake listening to his father screaming in the other room. He heard his mother sobbing, followed by a loud crash, then silence.

Later, the door creaked open and his mother hobbled into the room with him. Lovinus pretended he was asleep, as he knew she would scold him if she found that he was still awake. To his surprise though, she placed her hand on his shoulder and called his name weakly. He sat up, opening his eyes, and was met with a tight hug.

"Mama loves you, no matter what you become. Understand?"

"I love you too..." Lovinus smiled, squeezing himself against his mother's chest. As he felt the warmth of her body, he was once again reminded of how safe he always felt in her arms. Lovinus' father on the other hand, was never there for him and certainly never showed him any signs of his affection, always casting him aside as if he were garbage.

After several minutes, Lovinus' mother let go of him and slid down on to the floor, falling asleep from exhaustion. Lovinus wouldn't stand for her to freeze on this cold night, so he sneaked out of the room to fetch a blanket, before returning to cover her with it.

* * *

Lovinus stood by the bank of the Tiber River, throwing stones into the water out of boredom. He watched the ripples spreading over the river's surface and sighed exasperatedly.

"Look, it's the whore's son!" yelled a voice behind him.

Lovinus turned to face the older boy approaching him, a stone in his hand in case they tried to hurt him.

"My Mama's not a whore!" He yelled back, even though he still had no idea what the word meant.

"Silly kid, you just don't get it. Do you?" They grinned. He poked his index and middle fingers out, shoving Romano in the forehead and knocking him backwards on to the ground. "Your Mum and Dad never married. My Pa said so!"

Lovinus forced himself up and made eye contact with the other boy, as his fist clenched tighter around the stone.

"Bastard..." The other boy whispered, under his breath. He took a step forward, just narrowly avoiding stepping on Lovinus' toes. "You should just die, you don't belong in this world anyway..."

"Shut up!" Lovinus screamed, raising his arm in the air and thrusting the stone at the other boy's head. There was a quiet thud as the stone fell back to its original place, drops of blood visible on it.

The other boy put his hand to his face and felt the deep gash that was now on his forehead. He lunged at Romano in anger, preparing to push him into the river, but Lovinus dodged and ran for the nearby bridge.

* * *

"What have you done to yourself?" Lovinus' mother asked, as she tended to the large cut on his leg.

"I fell over..."

"And landed on your face too?"

"Yes..."

She gave him that look she always gave when she knew he was lying and hurried him inside.

"Your father's coming home soon and you know how he always is..."

"Ma? What happened between you and Pa?"

"Lovinus, you'll understand when you grow up. Right now, it's not your business to know..." She answered, wiping away a tear.

For a moment, Lovinus wondered why his mother smelt so strongly of wine; quite odd for someone who often claimed to detest alcohol.

* * *

Lovinus lay in bed once again, listening to his parents arguing. From what he could decipher from the muffled shouting, his father had apparently lost something important and was demanding that it be returned to him quickly. Lovinus rolled over and hid his head under his blanket to try to drown out the noise, yet there was a nagging feeling in his mind that he couldn't quite place.

The shouting continued to escalate for the next hour, before Lovinus heard his father's voice suddenly go quiet, resulting in an uncomfortable silence throughout the house. Lovinus sat up slowly and blinked. Feeling curious, he slid out of bed and tiptoed to the door. He placed his hands against the smooth wood and prepared to push it open, when he heard his mother scream in pain, followed by his father's heavy footsteps.

Lovinus stood, conflicted over whether to go back to bed or go out and face his parents. He glanced at his bed and thought of how much safer he would be there, but then there was his mother's distressed cries coming from the other room...

* * *

Lovinus' mother struggled to pull herself up from the floor, as she felt faint from both shock and blood loss. Through her blurred vision, she saw the bedroom slowly swing open and her son peeking out at her, a frightened look on his face. The boy's father was standing just feet away and she began to fear for his safety.

"Go back to bed..." She mouthed quietly, but he opened the door even wider and stepped towards her, as if he hadn't heard her warning.

"Ma..." He said quietly, wide-eyed and emotionless.

She shut her eyes tight and tried to hold back her tears, choking, as she came to terms with the very result of her carelessness. She remembered how she refused to have anything to do with that man until in the end, he could no longer control himself around her. When she found out she was pregnant, her whole family disowned her and threw her out on to the streets to fend for herself. Having no other choice, she went to live with the father of her unborn child.

* * *

Lovinus ran towards the large man just as they turned around to look down at him, knife in hand. He swallowed his fear and stood firmly, holding his ground in the hope that it would deter them just a little.

"Leave mother alone!" Lovinus yelled at the top of his voice, and paused in surprise at his own boldness.

He watched as a confused expression spread over his father's face and felt slightly relieved. He turned to his mother who now lay on the floor unconscious, looking frail and vulnerable.

Just then however, Lovinus felt a rough hand grab him by the throat, followed by a stabbing pain in his stomach. He gasped and looked up at his father's eyes which were now filled with disgust.

"You piece of shit!" Lovinus' father cursed, digging his boot into his son's chest. Lovinus slid down on to the floor, coughing.

Over the sound of his increasingly laboured breathing, Lovinus made out his mother's scream as her blurred figure rose and lunged itself at her husband.

* * *

**Sorry for taking so long to update. Well, here is the chapter for Romano.  
**

**As he is apparently kind to women but less so towards men, I made his mother the kind parent and his father the abusive one.**

**The name 'Lovinus' sounds like a Latin form of 'Lovino' and apparently means 'little wolf'.**

**I stated in the previous chapter that I had an idea for France, but now I'm not so sure about it, so his chapter is going to have to wait. **

**Anyway, PM me if I have made any mistakes.**


	11. Wang Yao

Once upon a time (thousands of years ago) there lived a young prince by the name of Wang Yao. Being a prince, his parents always gave him whatever he wanted: the finest toys, clothes, food, horses, etc. As a result, he grew up to be an arrogant and brash young man, inconsiderate of those around him, who only ever thought of himself.

One day, as a group of guards accompanied him through a street, Yao heard the voice of an old man speaking, as if to him. Feeling deeply curious, he pushed his way past his bodyguards, much to their shock and stopped by the side of the road.

The old man sat on a stool, surrounded by several young children, eagerly listening to his tales.

"On Kunlun Mountain, lives Xi Wangmu. By the edge of the Lake of Gems, she regularly invites other immortals to feast with her. Her gardens are abundant with peach trees. They say that the peaches on those trees confer immortality on any who eat them."

"Immortality, you say?!" Yao rudely interrupted. The old man and the children turned to stare at him, before they all panicked and fell to their knees, bowing down to him.

"Stop bowing!" Yao yelled in frustration. He really was sick of people doing that every time they saw him.

"Yes, your highness..." The old man whimpered, diverting his eyes.

"Do you know where this Kunlun Mountain may be? If so, tell me!"

"But your highness, it's just a story. Such a place could never exist on Earth!"

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I'm an old man. I've been to many places and done so many things in my life!"

"How did you come up with that story then?"

"I didn't. My father told me it."

"How did your father think of it, then?!" Yao asked in frustation.

"His father told him!"

"I give up..." Yao sighed, turning away from the old man and kicking dust into the air. "Let's move on!" He shouted at the bodyguards, and they did just as he said.

* * *

"Fruit that makes people immortal, you say?" A young woman asked, looking up from her needlework.

"Yes, that's what he said, dear."

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" The woman enquired, throwing down the robe she had been sewing. She approached her young husband and held on to his long sleeves. "If only the two of us could eat some of those peaches; we would live forever and never have to worry about growing old! Imagine how wonderful it would be!"

"Yes. We could become the most powerful couple in the world and no one would be able to ever challenge us." Yao agreed.

"Think of it: being king for all eternity...I would be your one and only queen, of course." She said with a smirk, pressing her body against his.

"But how would we come by such fruit? The old man couldn't decide if his story was real or not!"

"It must be true! How else could anyone think of something like that!" Yao's wife exclaimed, pulling herself away from him in alarm.

"Then how we would find Kunlun Mountain? Neither of us know where it is!"

"Oh, just ask around. It should be easy. You're not stupid, you know."

* * *

Yao trudged along the road by himself, his wife had decided to stay behind at home. She claimed that she needed to tend to the needs of their unborn child, though Yao couldn't remember the last time he had bedded her. The night before, she had hurried him outside making sure not to disrupt anyone. The fruit of immortality was for them and them only, after all.

Shaking his head, he pushed on. He wasn't used to travelling alone and felt a little afraid of the possible fate that would befall him, now that he was unguarded.

Along his journey, he often asked passersby what they knew of Kunlun Mountain and the Gods who lived there. Unfortunately, much the information he received proved to be contradictory, which greatly confused him. It was almost as if everyone was actively trying to keep him from reaching his destination.

And so Yao continued to roam the land aimlessly, too afraid to return home to his wife and child with nothing. He knew he wouldn't be able to cope if his wife flew into a rage and for once in his life, he couldn't turn to his parents for support.

Months passed, turning into years, and Yao still wasn't any closer to finding Kunlun Mountain. He was hopelessly lost, thousands of _li _away from home.

Finally, Yao gave up altogether and decided to travel back to his family, regardless of how they might react to his return. It took just over another year, but in the end he reached the steep hill that one had to cross to get into the city.

He climbed it slowly and once he was at the top, he raised his head to see if anything had changed since he had left.

It turned out that the whole place was different, and not in a good way. Yao's eyes widened in horror and he gasped, stumbling backwards and slipping down the hill.

The smell of smoke and ash filled the air around him and he coughed, trying to block out the unpleasant scent. In the distance, he heard several men shouting at once, followed by terrified screams.

Yao curled up in fear and covered his ears, just as several arrows rained down on him.

* * *

**In case you're wondering what happened at the end, his homeland was invaded by an enemy army while he was away and since he wasn't there, well...you use your imagination.**

**The immortality plot is pretty self-explanatory, but if anyone thinks I could have written it better, they can let me know.**


	12. Francis

Francis sat at the table, surrounded by women and holding a cup of wine. He flirted and conversed with them with ease, much to the envy of the other men in the room. As the women squabbled against each other for Francis' attention, he was briefly distracted by the young kitchen wench standing in the doorway. She sensed his gaze and glared back threateningly, trying to deter him.

"Just a moment, ladies..." Francis cleared his throat, putting his cup down. He stood up from his spot and made his way towards the kitchen wench. She scurried away as soon as he approached, taking refuge near the place where she felt most comfortable, the stove.

"Why don't you go back to those women, huh? I'm sure they like you more than I do." She muttered, curling her fingers around the nearest pot handle.

"Those women?" Francis said with a chuckle. "I couldn't care less about them. You're the one - "

"This again?! I thought we already went over it! What good could come, if a man like you married a shabby woman like me? Gosh, you're an idiot!" She yelled, losing her temper.

"Calm down..." He urged, a hint of panic in his voice. He reached out and touched her shoulder lightly.

"Don't touch me!" She flinched, batting his hand away.

"So what, you're just a poor servant? Class shouldn't matter if two people love each other." Francis said pleadingly, opening his arms slightly as if preparing to embrace her.

"Ha, who told you such things? If you talk like this, you'll get killed."

She strided away from him and towards the exit, trying once again to avoid the situation, but he grabbed her by the arm and prevented her from leaving.

"Obalda, I've held my feelings in for too long. We can always run away together, if no one approves."

Her face froze upon hearing his proposal, and she turned her head slowly to face him, her widened eyes saying it all.

"Y-you're mad...I don't even love you!" She cried, yanking her arm free from his grip. "Please, leave me alone!"

She stormed out of the kitchen in a flurry, paying no attention to the stares from the dining tables, and walked outside, where the sky was dark and the air was cool and damp. She wrapped her cloak around herself to keep warm and began to travel steadily along the road back home. She took her mind off the events of the previous hours and instead thought of what she was going to feed her family the following day.

Tonight was especially quiet, it seemed. She made sure to glance around now and then to check for any lurking dangers; back where she came from, there were frequent stories of unsuspecting travellers disappearing mysteriously without a trace, so one always needed to be very careful when walking alone. She placed her hand around the hilt of the knife hidden underneath her cloak, so that she would be able to defend herself if anyone tried to attack her.

An owl hooted, before taking off from its tree, making her jump. She heard loud rustles in the foliage to her right and began to speed up, her walk turning into a light jog. A cold hand suddenly laid itself on her shoulder and she screamed, reaching for the knife and striking, before she even had time to register the familiar voice uttering her name.

* * *

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." She apologized, tears running down her face and her words coming out with increasing difficulty.

Francis felt her hands curl up around his back and form a barrier between his body and the ground. He could feel a strange pain in his chest, but he had yet to realize just what was the cause. He gazed up and looked at Obalda's face.

"You're beautiful..." He whispered weakly as she pressed her hand against his cheek. His vision blurred and he fell unconscious in her arms.

* * *

"Francis..." A gentle voice called, bringing him back into consciousness. He opened his eyes and the light seemed strong enough to blind him. He blinked a few times, before he was able to adjust to the brightness in the room. He immediately noticed the way the sunlight shone in through the window, illuminating the features of the girl in front of him, making her seem pure and angelic. The way she smiled ever so slightly at him made his heart flutter.

"Thank goodness you're awake. I thought you were..." She paused mid-sentence and her smile faded, giving way to a more serious expression. "I didn't really mean to hurt you, will you forgive me?"

"Of course I will. Where am I?" He asked, rolling over on his side.

"No! You shouldn't move around too much!" She yelled, throwing her arms out just in time to hold him in place. "It's quite deep."

"Deep?"

"Yes..." She replied, standing and hurrying out of the room.

"Sis, why is there a strange man in the house?" A little boy asked her innocently, as he stood by the door, thumb in his mouth.

"It's nothing, you hear me. Don't go near him!" She snapped, attending to the large pot bubbling on the fire.

* * *

"Drink up." She instructed, offering a spoonful of soup. Meanwhile, her younger brother and sister kept heckling her with questions concerning the man on the bed.

Francis swallowed the liquid, relishing the taste and the sensation it left in his throat. If only he could eat food like this everyday.

"How did you make this? You're a great cook."

"Oh, just some simple herbs." She answered.

"You know, the man who marries you will be very lucky indeed."

"Don't say that!" She laughed, her cheeks turning red.

Francis sighed and took a deep breath. It came with great difficulty and he wheezed, realizing once again that he was badly wounded and in no shape to engage in any vigorous activity.

"How did I get here?" He asked in a more grim tone.

"I - I had to carry you all the way here. It was really hard, you're quite heavy."

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this."

"No, it's my fault. I didn't know it was you, I thought a bandit was about to attack me. By the way, your parents came by last night. They were really worried..."

"My parents?!"

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"Well...it's hard to explain. I always thought they despised me..."

"Despised you? How can any parent hate their child?" She questioned, as if the mere possibility was too much for her to comprehend.

"Did they say anything? About us?"

"No, not really. It was all about you. They wouldn't stop talking, they were hysterical. They said they would come later today, just to see you."

Francis swallowed anxiously and turned his gaze towards the wall, ignoring her for the rest of the hour.

* * *

That afternoon, just as expected, Francis' parents arrived with a doctor. It was also during that time that Francis' condition took a turn for the worse. He developed a severe fever and headache, becoming delirious. His vision blurred and his sense of reality began to warp.

The doctor felt Francis' forehead and chest and concluded that the injuries were irreversible, much to the devastation of his parents.

"What do you mean, irreversible?!" Francis' father spluttered in rage, as his wife tried to hold him back.

"I'm afraid your son is dying." The doctor said casually.

"Liar! You _can_ do something, you're a doctor!" Francis' mother cried, breaking down along with her husband.

"I'm afraid not. The best I can do is supply herbs and medicine that will ease his pain."

* * *

The hours passed slowly and Francis' energy and strength gradually waned. His appetite shrunk as the act of eating became increasingly painful, and in the end he was confined to lying down all the time.

That night, Francis' parents and Obalda's family stood around his bed, keeping him company so that he wouldn't feel lonely. He looked at the crowd around him in confusion, trying to figure out who they all were. They all seemed familiar, but exactly how they were significant to him, he couldn't recall. Nevertheless, he felt strangely touched and smiled, closing his eyes for the last time.

* * *

A young woman stood atop the bridge, staring down at the waters of the Seine. Clutching a spindle whorl tightly and her whole body trembling, she held back her tears and took her final breath, before shutting her eyes and letting herself fall freely into the river.

There was a splash as she sank beneath the surface, never to emerge alive.

* * *

**This chapter is quite different from the others, and it took me ages to figure out how it was going to play out. However, 'different' is not always a good thing, so let me know if there was anything I could have avoided, such as some of the dialogue, not enough focus on Francis, etc.**

**At this point, I doubt I'll be able to get around to each character. Some of them, like America, would be pretty hard to write, since American history is really complicated in my opinion.  
**

**Anyway, enough from me. I hope you enjoyed this.**

**PS: Spindle whorls were apparently given to Gaulish women by potential suitors. Make of that what you will.**


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